Dissonance
by Adamantwrites
Summary: After many years of marriage, Adam's wife packs to leave him but can he stop her before it's too late? Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and setting are the property of their respective owners. Original characters and plots are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.


Dissonance

Adam sat on the edge of the bed watching her pack. They had been married over twenty years, had gone through many ups and downs, but she had said that she could no longer live here or live with him, that things had become too awful between them and she wanted to leave, wanted to return to her home while her parents were still alive, that their bickering had taken its toll on her. And so her portmanteau was open on the foot of the bed and she was packing.

He had tried to talk her out of it; he didn't want her to leave. He had always attempted to be a better husband to her, he said, had always been faithful to her. He conceded that he hadn't always been the best husband, but he had tried. He said that he knew that he had a quick temper and a quick tongue to go with it, but he had curbed his sarcasm years ago. She must have recognized that, how he had put forth so much effort to not make unkind, thoughtless remarks. He regretted the times that he had hurt her feelings, that he had caused her to retreat in silence, but she had always punished him thoroughly through her coldness and disdain; she was not without her faults too.

She acknowledged that at the beginning of their marriage she had been needy, would cling to him and cry when he left her for a length of time, but as the years passed, she had matured and with him away on the business of the Ponderosa so much, she had learned to do without him, learned not to need him so much. Besides, if something needed attending to, one of his brothers or his father was there to help. So she had not depended on him so much in the later years of their marriage..

And now, she said, they were almost like strangers. When she looked at him, she didn't know who he was anymore.

"I don't know how you can say that," he said.

"Because we have nothing to talk about anymore, there's nothing between us. Because we don't seem to love each other any more," she had said.

Adam looked at her and as always, he saw the young girl he had so desperately fallen in love with. He allowed as how she had strands of grey in her hair and she often looked sad, but when she did smile at him, it still made his heart quicken and the sweetness of her face was still there. And although they had lain together so many times over the years, each time he felt the roundness of her breasts or tasted the sweetness of her mouth, it was as if it was the first time that he had been with her. To him, each day with her was the culmination of all his youthful yearnings and early dreams of beauty in a woman.

"I still love you," Adam said. I've always loved you, it's just that things between us…I don't know," he had said holding his head in his hands. " But I do love you. I can't help that I couldn't be here for you all the times that you needed me."

"You were _never_ here when I needed you."

And Adam knew what she was referring to, to the time their son, their first born had died from the influenza. Adam had come home immediately when he had received pa's telegram but it was too late. The child had become ill quickly and had died within a day. And she had been inconsolable. And so was he but no one realized it. Adam had thought at the time, 'I can't go on,' but knew he had to for her. So he had spent the time holding her and attempting to calm her as she clung to him and wept in his arms. Then Dr. Martin suggested giving her laudanum which was the only way she would be able to sleep. And then she slept, and there was no one to console him. He sobbed aloud with no one to hear.

"I always tried-I always tried to make up for things, but you never forgave me. You always reminded me that I fell short of being the husband you wanted. "

"I never did." She stopped packing and looked at him. He was still handsome to her, even with his hair almost completely gray now, and he still had a sweetness about his mouth, but his eyes were different than when he was younger-they had a hardness about them now; they had seen too much. She knew that it was because he had seen her through the agonies of child birth and through her overwhelming grief at their son's death. And then, she remembered that after their daughter had left for college two months ago, how he had tried his best to lighten the mood as she wandered through the house, missing her only child. She looked at him and remembered how he had insisted they go riding in the autumn sunshine and also had insisted they go to the harvest dance. He had danced every dance with her, smiling at her and doing his best to make her laugh. And they had felt like young lovers again. She looked at him sitting on the bed and remembered how he had taken her outside that night and kissed her in the moonlight and told her that she was as beautiful as the first day he had met her. And then, when they had returned home, he had led her upstairs and was once again the tender lover from long ago. And because she remembered these things, she sat down next to him.

"Adam, what is to become of us?"

"Why do you ask questions like that? Only God knows what will happen," and he reached over and took her hand in his, the left one with the gold wedding band, his mother's wedding band. He looked at the nails and how rosy they were with the half moons at their base. He had always liked her hands and he suddenly lifted it to his mouth and kissed it.

"Why won't you stay with me?' He looked at her and saw that she was beginning to cry again so he put his arm around her and pulled her to him. She rested her head on his chest. So many times, she remembered, he had held her like this and taken burdens from her and she loved him for that.

"I don't know. Oh, Adam, I do love you, it's just that I don't know what to do and sometimes I'm so sad."

"I know, my darling, but there's no need to be sad. You know I love you so, and we have a wonderful home and a beautiful, intelligent daughter who is going to come home at Christmas and treat us as if we are the two most stupid people in the world."

She couldn't help but laugh at the picture Adam painted. She sat up, looked at the man who had seen her in every way, her best and worst, body and soul, and still stayed with her, and said, "Can you forgive me?"

"Every moment of every day." And he kissed her and then pulled her gently down onto the bed, the bed where they had shared so many nights and so many moments in each other's arms and he knew she was going to stay.

~FINIS~


End file.
